


Not the Place for That

by pandapresident



Category: Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandapresident/pseuds/pandapresident
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frey and Dylas make up after an argument about fishing bait and what they need out of their relationship. Written for ifuckinglovemermaids on tumblr for the Rune Factory 2014 Secret Santa!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Place for That

What had their fight been about? Dylas couldn't even remember any longer. He did remember the hot rage that had flooded his body as they hurled insults at each other in front of the town gates, though, and that was enough to fuel his stubborn insistence that he wasn't going to apologise. Besides, the argument had morphed into them both pointedly ignoring the other, and Dylas wasn't going to be the one who cracked first, even if he did miss Frey taking his hand in hers or pulling him in for a hug. 

His determination wavered as he arrived at the lake. It was the first of summer and so all the eligible young misses and misters were hanging out by the water's edge, flaunting what their parents gave them in barely there bikinis and swimming trunks. Everyone was looking their best, but Dylas's gaze locked on Frey. He found himself drawn closer to her, intending to let her know just how good she was looking today, but remembered their argument just in time. She raised an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to move closer, but Dylas pulled out his fishing rod instead.

“Yeah, this is the best spot,” he said, trying to make it look as if he was talking to no one in particular. “The best spot. To catch that fish. The one that this spot is closest to.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Frey shake her head and turn back to Leon. She giggled at something he said, and Dylas gripped his fishing rod so tightly that his knuckles shone white.

“No way,” she scoffed. Dylas couldn't see what she was doing without turning, now, and like hell he was going to give her the satisfaction.

Dylas strained his ears but he couldn't make out what the stupid ancient fox-face said in response, but he bet it wasn't as uproariously amusing as Frey was making out. He was never giving that grandpa lamp squid again, he could damn well catch his own, and – who was that talking to Frey, now? Forte? Forte would surely tell Leon off for – for – for something, dammit, and spoil their fun. Or Leon would switch targets to Forte, tease her instead, and Frey would get bored and wander somewhere else. Somewhere where Dylas could check out that new bikini without being too obvious, hopefully. But for once, Leon didn't manage to offend Forte, who was now laughing too. 

Just what was so funny, anyway? He wanted to crane his neck, just an inch, just check if even moral guardian Meg had forsaken him, but even a twitch would be like admitting defeat. He stared straight ahead. Where, oddly enough, he spotted a hand waving back and forth less than an inch from his nose. Confused, he followed the arm attached to the hand back to its owner.

“Hello?” Xiao Pai said.

“Yeah?” Dylas said, wondering how long she'd been standing beside him for.

“Your rod,” Xiao Pai said, pointing to the pole in his hands. “Should it not be pulling that fish in now?”

“What fish?” Dylas asked. He glanced down at the water and saw, to his horror, that a squid had managed to nibble away most of his bait. He reeled in as fast as he could but it was too late, the squid had taken its meal and made its getaway. “Shit!”

“Ah well,” Xiao Pai said, patting his forearm gently. “There are plenty more squid in the sea.”

“I wish there weren't,” Amber said, appearing beside Xiao Pai. She pouted. “I asked Ven to turn them into pretty sea flowers.”

“Swimming flowers?” Xiao asked. Dylas fumbled with his bait, struggling to get it to sit on his hook. It slipped out of his grasp and fell into the water with a very smug “plop”. He growled.

“Yeah!” Amber beamed as Dylas cursed under his breath. He crouched down to fish the bait out of the water but the tide had already pulled it away from him. “They could have stems for tentacles!” 

“The squid are sounding less scary than the replacement!” 

“No way!” Amber said. Dylas gave up on the escapee and opened up his box of bait to find a single worm. He stared at it for a moment, wondering how he'd let his stock of bait get so low. It was unlike him to go a day without checking and replenishing his bait as needed, but clearly he hadn't done that for a while now. 

“Yes, way yes!” said Xiao Pai. 

Their conversation continued, shrill and excitable and argumentative and happy and obliterating his chances of hearing anything else. He didn't know what Frey was doing, who she was talking to, whether she was ready to forgive or just forget him. He swallowed and picked out his bait. He had to make this one last. He didn't want to leave so soon after arriving and let everyone think that he was still sulking because he'd fought with Frey.

Which, funnily enough, had also been caused by issues of bait.

It had been a stormy day and Frey had asked if he'd accompany her out. He'd said that he was going out anyway, to get his bait, and she'd grinned and said that was just perfect then. And they'd gone out of the town, with Nancy calling after them to behave. He remembered how hot his face felt in that second, how easily Frey had laughed it off. Frey lead the way, which Dylas was fine with, until he spotted it. Not just one or two but a handful of worms, summoned to the surface by the rain. He had stopped to gather them up. It took a while, as their flesh was even slipperier than usual thanks to the slick, wet earth they'd just crawled out of, and he didn't realise that Frey hadn't stopped with him until he heard her scream his name.

He dropped the box as he ran to her. She was up against a big monster that he'd never seen before, a terrifying dark blue devil with a sword almost as big as her. She spun around as he ran to her, anger written over her face. She didn't notice the sword slicing through the air towards her.

Dylas grabbed her by the wrist and teleported them the hell out of there without asking any questions. This, it turned out, was the wrong thing to do. She'd been looking for that monster for a while and had every intention of kicking its ass. She did not take kindly to his suggestion that it was her ass that was getting kicked.

“I was only losing because I was looking for you!” she yelled at him. “Where were you? Getting your stupid bait?”

“Uh, yeah!” Dylas yelled back. “I was doing the thing I told you I was going to do!”

“Then you should have said you wanted to stop!”

“I thought you had stopped, too! I didn't think you'd go charging into battle without noticing that I wasn't there!”

“Who doesn't tell other people when they're stopping for a second?”

“You!” Dylas shouted back. “Every time you want to mine an ore!”

“Maybe I was mining that ore to see if you'd check out my ass!”

“What?” Dylas had been flabbergasted. Even with the benefit of hindsight, he wasn't sure what Frey had been getting at there. “Why would you do that?”

“To see if you'd finally make some kind of move!”

“Move to where?”

Frey had groaned and pulled her hair in frustration. Further words were exchanged, none of them very polite, and the two of them ended up being dragged in different directions by concerned onlookers. Dylas maintained that Frey was being hypocritical and needed to pay more attention to her surroundings. He didn't know what Frey was saying, as they began pointedly ignoring each other, but he was pretty sure she wasn't relenting either.

Since they'd both come out of the situation unscathed, Dylas now supposed that their fight didn't matter too much. He could even forget her weird remarks at the end (was it a chess reference?). Hell, if Frey was going to be that unobservant, he'd even try to remember to let her know if he wanted to stop for a second. The difficulty lay in expressing that to Frey, who would probably just walk past him if he tried to apologise. Dylas squirmed, just imagining having to run through the streets after a haughty Frey, trying to stammer out the words that would get him back in her good graces. He was sorry, but not that sorry. Not when it was her fault too.

“And that's why we should turn all the fishies into flowers!” Amber said, spreading her arms and wings wide, knocking into Dylas in the process. The bait slipped down his palm. He clasped his hand around it, tightly cradling it. He was sure that if he could just get through today, he'd be able to figure it out. All he needed was a little peace and quiet. “Sorry Dylas! So anyway, about the pollen. Don't you think it'd be neat if instead of ink, squid flowers shot pretty pollen into the water?”

“Anyway no!” Xiao Pai cried out, putting her hands over her ears. Dylas fumbled with the wriggly piece of bait that seemed determined to follow in the steps of its fallen comrade. “No slimy pollen! No tendril tomato vines!”

“But what could be better than a silky smooth tendril of fruit hugging you while you swim?”

“Squid! Nice non-tomato squid!”

“Shut up!” Dylas snapped. He immediately got the silence he wanted, but not just from the two girls beside him. The skin on his back prickled from the glares being thrown his way. Amber's lip wobbled as he looked for a way to pull the words back. He couldn't find one in time.

“Dylas!” Meg shouted. He tell from her tone of voice that her hands were on her hips. “Don't yell at them!”

He wanted to fight back and argue, but there was no way that he could justify yelling at them. He had nothing to say to excuse his actions. His skin felt like it was peeling under their angry stares. 

“Sorry,” he said, dropping the bait down to the ground. He slunk away from the lake, the conversations picking up again as he departed. He traced his way through the empty streets back to the restaurant to get changed. Once again he'd lost his temper and it had done just as little good as the last time. Maybe what he needed was some peace and quiet away from everyone until he could collect his thoughts a bit better. 

His fuzzy ears pricked. He heard rapidly approaching footsteps, coming along the same path he'd come down. He peered around, curious to know who'd forgo the summer festival.

He didn't expect it to be exactly the person he'd been thinking of only seconds ago, still in her bikini and looking rather bouncy as she raced towards him. He ducked his gaze away, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Idiot!” he said, so flustered that he forgot about their fight. “What're you doing wearing that out here?”

“You don't like it?” Frey asked, stepping into Dylas's line of sight. He looked away again, holding his head up high. His brain was starting to kick back into gear and he had remembered that he was not speaking to Frey. “Guess I should take it off then...”

He looked down in horror to see her slipping one of the bikini straps down her pale shoulder. He grabbed her hand to stop its descent.

“You can't do that here!” he said.

“Made you talk,” she said, grinning.

“...,” Dylas said, pulling her bikini strap back into place. She rolled her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I should probably have been paying more attention to what you were doing before running into a big fight.”

“I'm sorry too,” Dylas mumbled. Apologies were hard, and speaking of hard, Frey was awfully close considering how little she was wearing. He tried to push that out of his mind. “I probably should have said something before stopping.”

“And not dragged me out of that fight,” Frey added. Dylas glared.

“It was about to slice you!”

“I could handle it!” Frey protested, pulling her hands from Dylas to put them on her hips. 

“No one can handle having their head cut off!”

“You're underestimating the toughness of the human neck,” Frey said, waving a dismissive hand at his reasoning.

“It's not something I want to test!” Dylas said. Frey's hard expression didn't waver. “Especially not...not with your neck.”

“Aw, are you saying my neck is special?” Frey teased. Dylas spluttered, but no actual words seemed capable of forming in his mouth. “I have something else to apologise for as well.” 

“Yeah?” Dylas asked. He began to unfasten his jacket. 

Frey's mouth twitched into a smile. “I thought this wasn't the place for that?”

“It's not!” Dylas said, the colour quickly rising in his cheeks. He pulled his jacket off and slipped it around Frey's shoulders. “But you. Uh. Shouldn't be out here like this.”

“You don't like people other than you staring?”

“I wasn't staring!” Dylas protested. Frey laughed and linked her arm with Dylas's.

“Come on,” she said.

“Where?” he asked, feeling slightly dizzy from all the blood rushing up and down in his body. “And what were you saying?”

“Somewhere I can wear whatever I want and show you what I want rather than hint about it with words.” She shook her head. “You're not so great with those, are you?”

Dylas nodded and let himself be lead back to town. He paused outside the entrance to Frey's room, expecting to wish her farewell for the time being, but she held the door open for him so expectantly that his feet followed her inside without giving his brain time to intercede. She closed the door behind them before making her way to her wardrobe. 

Dylas continued to hover awkwardly near the entrance. Being in Frey's bedroom always put him on edge for reasons he couldn't explain but he could certainly feel. He cast his gaze around the room nervously, from the newly upgraded double bed (when did that happen?) to the chest which seemed to be straining against the lock holding it closed, back to Frey, who had pulled the bikini top over her head. She had her back to him but Dylas covered his eyes with both hands just in case.

“I'm still here!” he warned her.

“I know,” she said. So why did it sound like she was walking towards him? “But I can wear whatever I like here, right?”

“Um, I guess?” Dylas managed to splutter. “But I shouldn't be here while you change!”

“Even if I want you to be?” Frey asked, taking Dylas's hands from his face. He screwed his eyes shut tight. 

“You're too naïve,” he said. “You can't just undress in front of a guy!”

“I think you're the one being naïve if you don't think I know exactly what I'm doing,” Frey said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her soft breasts rubbed against his chest as he swallowed, hard, trying to count backwards from a hundred to try and keep his cool. She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “Being apart from you was so frustrating.”

Dylas tried to make words happen but his tongue was twisted. He didn't know what to say but felt that he was definitely supposed to be saying something at this juncture. He did dare to open his eyes, at least, but tried not to look down. 

“I think you felt the same way,” Frey said, taking a lock of hair from the front of his face and twisting it around her fingers. “You certainly seem tense today.” 

“Uh,” Dylas said, entranced by her fingers. 

“Want to get rid of that tension with me?” Frey asked. 

“Seriously?” Dylas asked, his eyes wide. Frey nodded. “Yeah. I mean, yes. I mean-”

He pressed his lips against hers, stopping any more failed words from spilling out. Frey squealed as he hauled her up and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down reverentially, drinking her in with his eyes. Frey pulled him on top of her, kissing him deeply, and hooked her legs around Dylas's hips. She felt soft beneath him, but there was strength and desire in her grip. 

Frey's fingers slipped underneath his top, tracing the hard outline of his hip bone briefly before reaching up to stroke his chest. That was a hint even Dylas could decipher; he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. 

Dylas rubbed his clothed crotch against hers, pulling a moan from Frey's lips in the process. He continued to grind against her as he sprinkled kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, but very carefully not descending any lower than that. 

“It feels like your nickname is pretty accurate, Big D,” Frey said, arching her back as he pushed against her. Their positions gave Dylas an outstanding view of her perky breasts. He still felt a frisson of wickedness as he looked at her in this state, even though Frey had been plainly signposting her approval. “Mind if I check?”

“Do whatever you want with me,” Dylas said. Frey plunged her hand into his pants to pull out his erect cock. Her mouth opened wide. “Er, is it okay?”

“Oh, yeah!” she said, looking back up at his face. Dylas was relieved to not be the only one blushing any longer. “I just wasn't expecting the nickname to be quite, um, that accurate.”

Her gaze fell back down to his cock as she slid her delicate hand back and forth along his impressive shaft. Dylas's head lolled back. Touching himself felt good, but this was incomparable. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her touch on his skin, until he felt orgasm building up in the base of his cock. He opened his eyes, panicked, and caught Frey's hand. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No!” Dylas said, forgetting volume control for a moment. “Uh, no. It's just – well – you did want to do something – something else as well, right?” He didn't leave her time to reply before quickly continuing, “Not that we have to! But if you do, then, uh-”

“I get it,” Frey said, smiling up at him. “And yeah, I want to have sex with you.”

Dylas didn't know how she could utter that sentence so casually when just hearing it made his face feel like it had been lit on fire. She withdrew her hand. Dylas, trying to cover up his less than macho embarrassment, stroked a hand between her thighs. Frey parted her legs, giving him unobstructed access. Dylas listened carefully to the way she moaned as he stroked her lower lips, using the cues as signs to where she was most sensitive, before rolling her bikini bottoms down her legs. Frey looked pleasantly surprised by his initiative, but even more surprised by the way he lowered his head between her legs.

Dylas lapped his tongue along her folds as Frey buried her hands in his hair, nudging him higher. He flicked the tip of his tongue against her nub, making Frey buck her hips as she squealed with delight. Dylas continued licking her as he stroked a finger around her entrance. There was no resistance from her body as he easily slid a finger inside her, stroking her internally as he stroked her clit with his tongue.

“Dylas,” Frey whimpered. He stopped, eyes wide.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. She shook her head hard enough to send her pigtails flying in front of her face.

“I need you now,” she said. Dylas blinked. “Not your fingers or tongue. Please?”

“Ah!” Dylas said. He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He positioned himself above her small frame. Frey laid a reassuring hand against his flushed cheek as they met each others' eyes. Dylas dipped his hips, pressing his hard cock against her wetness, and, reassured by the slight nod Frey gave him, pressed inside her. A gasp escaped her lips as he entered her body.

“Are you okay?” Dylas asked, holding still. Frey nodded vehemently.

“You feel good,” she panted. “Keep going? Please?”

“If you promise you'll let me know if I need to stop,” Dylas said. 

“I promise,” Frey said. 

Dylas obliged, but he was careful to keep his eyes on her face for the first sign of discomfort. He didn't know much about sex, but he'd heard that it could be painful if done improperly. He also knew that brute force was one of his stronger abilities. He had no intention of accidentally using that strength against Frey or hurting her through his incompetence in any way. His body was desperate for more, and faster, but until he had a better idea of what he was doing he knew better than to listen to it. Frey caught on to his continued nervousness.

“It still feels good,” she said, brushing a hand through his hair. “Don't worry; you're not going to break me.” That, at least, hadn't been a concern of Dylas's. Not until she'd suggested it, anyway. His face fell. Frey laughed and pressed down against his cock. “I think you might be overestimating your own strength there, sweetie.”

“Am not!” he protested, jerking his hips against her. She grinned up at him wickedly. 

“What was that? I barely felt it.”

“Oh, really?” Dylas pulled his hips back and snapped back inside her. “How about that?”

“Ooh!” she squealed. “I'm almost certain I felt something that time.”

“You,” Dylas growled, a smile creeping at the corner of his lips. “I'll give you something to feel.”

He rocked his hips into Frey, goaded by her squeals and playful insults, until he reached a tempo that left neither of them with the capacity for speech. Frey curled up against him, her face buried in his shoulders as she breathed hot, heavy breaths against his skin before falling back against the mattress, a woozy smile written on her lips. Dylas thrust deep inside her to release the orgasm he'd held back before. 

He felt light-headed now that his body's primal urge had been satisfied. He just about managed to catch himself before dropping the full weight of his body onto Frey's smaller frame and instead rolled to the side of her. Frey immediately swarmed around him, wrapping her limbs around him. His brain and mouth still seemed to have difficulty cooperating, so he was left to wordlessly look to her expression to check if he'd done okay. She beamed back at him.


End file.
